It was not morning yet. Sakura was sure about that. That was one of the few things she was sure about.

There were a lot more unknown factors. First of all, whose bed it was that she was lying in. And in whose arms. And exactly what kind of relationship they had established the night before. The whole situation in itself was not terribly new as such. A kunoichi had to get used to sleeping –and sleeping well – in different situations, places, times, circumstances. From sleeping bags in pouring rain to a big bed in the daimyo's palace, one had to get as many hours of sleep as possible to be alert and fast the next day. And of course, it wasn't terribly uncommon to fall asleep after a party in someone's apartment and share the bed or the rug with the people you usually shared food and lodgings and weapons with anyway. When your mates already saw you bleeding, cursing, throwing up and wet like a drown rat on missions, it's just impossible to care too much if aforementioned mates see you lying on the floor and carrying on a drunken discussion about whether it would be possible to cause a lethal wound with a rubber shuriken.

Of course, they would be just as drunk, obviously, and will probably remember even less of the whole discussion than you the next day.

On the other hand, Sakura thought, it had never happened to her before that she woke up in someone else's bed naked.

But it was so warm and pleasant. The whole bed smelled good – not like her own, but good. Her own sheets always had a clean, floral scent but they were sort of…sterile.

This bed, on the other hand, smelled not only of detergent and her own perfume. It smelled of spices and smoke and the scent of a man, the exotic smell of another person's warm skin.

She was surrounded by his scent and his warmth and the touch of his skin on her back where she could feel his chest rising with each breath. His left arm was lying across her breasts where he could feel her breathe – that is, if he were awake.

It was strangely comforting and familiar although Sakura had never slept with a man before.

No, that's not true, she thought sleepily. She had slept with men before but not slept, exactly.

Sakura was used to having these half-awake discussions with herself when she woke up at night and felt safe and warm enough to let her thoughts wander on their own, instead of reining them in and pushing them toward a field that would prove useful like types of poisons or a new jutsu or just what to have for lunch.

In these last few weeks whenever she woke up at night, she just shut her mind down and went back to sleep. She didn't want to have even her most private thoughts monopolized by Sasuke.

This wasn't Sasuke's bed. They hardly ever had sex in his bedroom, he preferred her apartment – probably because then he could go home afterwards.

She didn't insist, for several reasons. She didn't want to scare him but even more importantly she didn't like the way his house felt.

It was not Sasuke's bed and not his arm around her.

It wasn't Lee either.

It must be a dream.

If it was a dream, it was okay not to feel ashamed.

She cuddled closer to her dream companion and felt him move against her, murmuring sleepily. It sounded like her name.

She was dreaming about someone who was dreaming about her. It made sense. It was an extremely pleasant dream, in a dark, silent bedroom, with a strong man behind her who was kissing her neck and his hand was stroking her breasts.

She was so sleepy. So, so sleepy… That was why she let this strange visitor pass through her dreams without hesitation, without remorse.

"Sakura," he whispered again. "My sweet."

She opened her eyes and reality came back slowly, leisurely, like a cat coming home after a successful hunt.

It was real and not a dream, she was in a man's bed – but she still felt warm and happy and satisfied.

Ah. The memories arrived in a rush – sake and touches and her very first orgasm. She was still with him.

"Shikamaru," she whispered.

"Hmmm."

"What time is it?"

She felt him sigh and the pillow rustled as he moved.

"No idea. Half past four? Something like that. Is it important?"

"No. Yes." She paused. "Do you still want me to stay?"

"Yes."

Pause.

"Do you want to go?" he asked, his voice suddenly serious.

"No. I want to stay here with you."

"Good."

He scooped her closer. She felt his warm breath on the nape of her neck.

"Sleep then. It's early. I'll still be here in the morning," he mumbled.

Sakura sighed, contented and calm in his embrace. She stretched, trying to find the most comfortable position and turned around, feeling Shikamaru's heat, his scent, his silky-smooth skin. It was unfair that a man should have skin this smooth.

She threw her right leg across his left thigh and put her face near his muscled chest to breathe in his scent. Her lips lingered over his skin, almost touching but not quite.

"You do everything you can to wake me up, don't you," she heard him grumble as he put his left arm around her waist. She looked up, drowsy from sleep and found herself looking into a face half-covered with shadows. Her breath hitched in her throat as his hand found her bottom and squeezed it.

She couldn't help moaning and he pulled her closer.

"If I don't get my beauty sleep I'll be really grumpy later," he said.

Sakura still wasn't fully awake. It was a luxury. Sleep was a necessity and waking up was an obligation, but waking up and not being fully alert and functioning the minute she opened her eyes…oh, the kinky, depraved, perverted luxury of laziness…

Maybe that was why she slowly put her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss that quickly got deeper and messier and more and more arousing. He smelled good. It was the same scent as the sheets only a lot stronger…

She was slipping back to sleep and dreams where there was no room for feeling sorry or unhappy because there was no need. She was protected. But he was touching her, touching and feeling and caressing, knowing her most intimate places by heart.

Sakura was still on the verge of sleep, drifting away, drifting back to dreams, slowly, slowly…

She was swimming in a river that was the most beautiful blue, so blue that it looked as if it was made of sparkling, deep blue lights and there were big water lilies around. She wasn't alone, there was someone holding her hand, swimming with her, but she couldn't get a good look at his face, she only heard his voice, his deep, melodious laugh…

"Don't you dare go back to sleep after you've managed to wake me up… you little vixen…"

She mumbled an answer but her brain and her body were working in a different timeshift. She didn't sleep well in the past few weeks. First it was the worry about Sasuke and the way their relationship was going or rather struggling, then she was suddenly alone and staring at the ceiling at night, wondering what went wrong.

She handled these problems as she usually did: she put a little extra effort into her work. When she finally got home she was tired enough to practically drop dead the moment her head touched the pillow.

The trick was that she had to manage to get by with less than six hours of sleep per day.

Now it was payback time. She was safe and happy and horny and sleepy at the same time… and her body was responding to his caresses on its own.

There were kisses all over her body and she was moaning. She sounded wanton and careless but her throat was not obeying her and it was too difficult to find the strength when each second there was a new touch, a new kiss.

She was floating in a different world somewhere where the blue water and the soft touches were one.

Somewhere in a nearby universe Shikamaru was kissing her neck, her shoulder, her breasts, her belly…

Oh God.

She opened her eyes again and looked down. Shikamaru looked back, startled. He was holding her thighs and kissing her belly just above the patch of pink curls and Sakura realized that the surprised and almost-frightened little sound must have been hers.

Before she had time to think it over, she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

"What are you doing there?"

Oh hell. The prize-winner for "The Dumbest Question on the Morning After."

Shikamaru seemed rather amused.

"I would have thought that was obvious," he said. "Don't you think so?"

Her sleepy brain was desperately looking for words.

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. He seemed sleepy but somehow still alert in that funny, "I know what's going on even with my eyes still half closed" way of his.

Not to mention that he looked quite self-assured and smug, even naked.

The cocky bastard.

Sakura was totally confused. She wanted to shield herself but she couldn't. The usual mechanisms didn't seem to be working. She willed herself to get angry – but what was there to be angry about? That an attractive – extremely attractive – man was willing to provide oral sex without being asked to do so?

But her stomach was in a knot. Fear? She had no reason to feel fear.

Shikamaru was watching her, his face inscrutable now. Then suddenly he smiled again, sat up and stroked her face, pushing an unruly lock of her hair behind her ear with one finger.

"I'm not like him," he said seriously. "I'm not like him at all. Trust me. I won't break your heart."

There was nothing to say to that. She nodded.

Shikamaru nodded too, then leaned closer and kissed her. It was a tender, loving kiss, his lips touching hers softly, almost reverently, his warm fingers slipping into her hair to hold her safe while she forgot everything and returned his kiss.

"So?" he said, the corners of his mouth turning up. "Will you let me try?"

"I'm not really fond of this thing."

Now there was the smile that she expected, that she needed, that she wanted to see. She never would have thought that Shikamaru's smile would ever quicken her heartbeat but it certainly did now.

"You will be now," he said confidently. "What about this?"

Sakura somehow didn't expect that things would turn out exactly like this. All the romance novels talked about sex as something passionate and desperate and wonderful, but none of them said that it would be fun.

Obviously Shikamaru had never read these books.

He started by kissing her again, then kissing and sucking her neck… then blowing hot air into her left ear. When she shrieked and swatted at him, he found a ticklish place under her ribs and made good use of it.

After that it was a full-blown game. The rules were invented on the spot and all the small weaknesses were mercilessly exploited. Shikamaru could tickle her all he wanted – his nipples were so sensitive that he trembled when she licked them. Sakura never knew that the soft skin in the crook of her elbow was like this – when he started to kiss her there it gave her goosebumps.

The pillows were all on the floor, the sheets tangled in a mess under them when Shikamaru started to kiss her belly again and she felt the fire return. He was going lower slowly and it wasn't frightening anymore. She opened her legs without a question and ran her fingers through his hair – it was surprisingly soft.

He began to kiss her inner thighs, then his lips touched her more intimately, forbidden, exciting… When she looked down, she only saw his dark hair spilling over her belly and his hands on her thighs, olive on ivory. She was fragile compared to his masculine bulk.

His tongue circled over her pearl and she couldn't stifle a moan. He gripped her thighs harder and his mouth was sucking her, kissing her, licking her. It wasn't disgusting. It was dirty and unbelievable. She wanted to be dirty for his sake, she didn't care anymore and she whimpered aloud.

"That's it, baby. Speak to me," Shikamaru grunted, raising his head for a second. "God, I love to hear that."

It was fire running through her veins. His touch, his lips, his tongue, the sight of his head buried between her legs, his tanned, muscular back shining with a sheen of sweat.

This time it was like being shattered and breaking into pieces. She was bending into an impossible angle, her whole body shivering and shaking.

When she opened her eyes, it was Shikamaru's face she saw first, his eyes dark and burning with lust.

He didn't have to say anything. She opened her legs again and with just one move of his hips he was already inside her, hissing and cursing, his voice deep and raspy.

He was telling her how hot she was, how sweet, how tight and how he wanted to stay inside her forever. But his hips were moving faster and faster and his hands were gripping her hips to keep her in place to pound into her as strong as he could.

Sakura was dazed. It felt like being drunk. He was scorching hot inside her, over her, his strength easily rivalling hers now. She knew that this time there would be no careful touches and smiles and soft kisses because he was past the moment of caring. He wanted her as a man wants his woman and there was nothing else but him in this room, all his attention, all his strength focused on her, to keep her in place, to dominate her until he could pour his load into her.

It sent her over the edge again. She was his treasure and his slave and her body remembered this and let itself be coaxed into surrendering one more time.

"Fuck… oh fuck… Yes, baby, yes… come for me, come around my cock. Oh God. Oh God!"

She felt him deep inside her, touching a spot that shook her each time he pushed into her. She came with such force that she screamed. It was close to painful, being forced to come again only after a few minutes. It was so good.

She was lying on her back, her eyes closed, spent, breathless. Shikamaru was lying over her, boneless, covered in sweat, his skin hot, his face buried in the crook of her neck. Then his body began to shake and it took a second for Sakura to understand that he was laughing silently. He raised his head before she could ask anything.

"Sorry," he said, his eyes filled with tears of laughter. "Oh God… Sakura, I'm sorry. It's just too funny… God. Frosty sheets?"

He tried to repress his laughter again but his shoulders were still shaking.

"Are you angry with me?" Shikamaru asked in a much softer voice. "I'm sorry… I didn't want to hurt you…"

Sakura supposed there was a reason why he thought she would be angry but she was too tired. With some effort she opened her eyes again.

"Silly," she whispered. She found it too difficult to speak – there were other ways, much easier and more pleasant ways to show him she wasn't angry. Far from it.

She pulled his head back to her shoulder and kissed his hair. He murmured something against her skin and kissed her neck.

The novels said that in these moments there should be long and meaningful looks and sweet words exchanged between the two lovers – but which words could convey feelings more than these touches? He was still holding her and protecting her from the whole world with his body. She was cradling him, rocking him gently. He was heavy and the whole room smelled of sweat and body fluids and the sheets and the pillows were not in place and nothing was tidy or arranged and she was floating without anchors, not in control of her feelings and her thoughts – but her heart didn't feel empty anymore.